by Terri Reed
“I came to check on you both.”
“We’re fine.”
Right. “It shows.”
He flinched and wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand.
“Josh, what’s wrong?”
A long silent moment passed. He was fighting to stay in control. She understood what that was like, the energy and the concentration it took to keep from being vulnerable to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm and destroy. She took a deep breath, wanting to help, to take away whatever it was that was eating at him, even if he didn’t want her to. “Remember what you said to me?”
He didn’t respond.
She kneeled next to the chair and turned his face toward her with her hand, his stubbled jaw prickly to her touch. His tortured eyes, looking bleak and lost, ripped at her soul. She had to help him.
“‘You have to let it out or it will eat away at you.’” She quoted the words he’d spoken to her that day when she’d cried in his arms. “Josh, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“I can’t. You don’t want to know.”
The suffering in his voice brought fresh tears to clog her throat. She laid her hand on his cheek, her thumb gently caressing.
His eyes closed briefly, accepting her offer of solace. Satisfaction flowed through her. Empathy for his pain tightened her chest. Such a strange mix of emotions.
He pulled away. “I don’t deserve your comfort or your concern.”
The utter lack of emotion in his hushed voice sent a shiver down her spine and started the reconstruction of the wall around her heart. She withdrew her hand, stung that even now he would push her away. At least she’d tried. “Don’t deserve or don’t want?”
“There’s no absolution for what I’ve done.”
The self-recriminations in his tone made her shake her head. “Griff’s accident was not your fault. He’s going to be okay.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I know that. Griff’s the only thing I’ve done right in my life.”
His cryptic remarks confused her. “That’s not true. You help people every day doing your job.”
He shot her a sharp glance. “Yeah, well. A career doesn’t make up for a lost life.”
“A lost life…” Realization dawned. “Andrea.”
His gaze grew distant; his body drew inward, closing Rachel out. She’d known Josh mourned his wife, but she hadn’t really understood how deep his grief went.
“You must have loved her a great deal,” she whispered past the lump in her throat.
She didn’t know what to say to ease his pain. Or her own. Behind her wall of defense, the tiny corner of her heart that held the dream of Josh’s love withered. Even if she could stay longer than she intended, she didn’t stand a chance against the memory of the love he and Andrea had shared.
He glanced at Griff, then gave a sharp negative shake of his head before abruptly standing and moving by the window.
Rachel rose. Her heart hammered in her chest. What had he meant? That he hadn’t loved Andrea or that he wasn’t going to talk to Rachel about his wife? She watched him for a long, tense moment. His rigid stance screamed isolation, but the agony marring his handsome features belied his body language.
She’d promised Mom G. she’d take care of Josh. She’d wanted to fulfill the promise through Griff. But she needed to reach out to Josh. He’d unknowingly helped heal her scarred soul. It was her turn to help him.
Grim determination straightened her spine. She didn’t want Griff to wake up and see his father so distressed. She closed the distance between them and laid a hand on Josh’s arm.
He looked down at her hand, then met her gaze. She sucked in a breath at the torment in his eyes. “For Griff’s sake, please let me help.”
His jaw tightened.
“Stubborn man,” she muttered with frustration.
The corner of his mouth quirked up, reminding her of when he’d said the same thing about her. Rachel narrowed his gaze on him as an idea formed. He’d wrapped her in his arms and had refused to let go when he’d said those words.
Not taking the time to rationalize why what she was about to do was dangerous to her heart, she stepped closer and slipped her arms around his waist. His breath hitched and she tightened her hold.
“Rachel,” he groaned, his tone full of warning and longing.
“It’s okay. Everything will be okay,” she said into his shirt.
“No.” His hands came down on her shoulders and tried gently to push her away. She refused to budge.
“Everything will never be okay,” he stated in a shattered voice.
“Why?”
He stopped pushing. She leaned back to look up at him. “Why, Josh? Why won’t everything be okay?”
“You don’t want to know.” His hands dropped away from her and he shifted within the confines of her loosened hold.
Suddenly, holding him seemed awkward and inappropriate. She stepped back and let her arms fall to her side. “Tell me.”
A noise broke from him. Agonizing to hear, full of misery and torture. He didn’t answer. He walked to Griff’s bedside and stared down at his son. Rachel was almost relieved that he wanted to back away from the heartache of his story, but she could see the suffering in his eyes.
She walked to stand beside him.
He sighed. “You’re not going to let this lie, are you?”
“No,” she said softly.
He ran a finger down Griff’s cheek. “I love him, you know. More than I love my own life.”
“I know.” She slipped her hand into his, wanting to share her strength. “Let’s take a walk so we don’t disturb him.”
Josh swallowed and then nodded. They left the room and walked down the corridor. She wasn’t sure where to go, but then she realized that Josh had taken the lead. He led them to the hospital chapel. The softly lit sanctuary was empty. They slid into the back pew.
“Tell me what’s eating at you,” she gently prodded.
His gaze shifted from her face to the stained glass window. The misery so clear in his expression tore at her heart. She didn’t know what memory was playing behind his glazed, wide-eyed stare, but whatever images he saw were harrowing. His pain made her ache in a way she never had before. Lord, give me strength to help him.
He closed his eyes, and a violent shudder wracked his body. When he opened his eyes and turned to stare down at her, she drew back at the blank, desolate look.
“I killed my wife.”
Shock reverberated through Rachel. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. He was only trying to scare her, drive her away. Josh would never kill anyone. She was as sure of that as she was that God loved her and had a plan for her life. Neither belief was tangible, but true just the same.
“Were you driving the car?” she asked, prepared for his answer to be yes.
“No.”
She blinked. “But Mom G. said she’d died in a car accident.”
“She did.”
Those two words left her more confused. “Then how can you be responsible?”
“Because,” he responded fiercely, “she was in that car because of me.”
She frowned. That was so like a guy to not come out with a straight answer. She contemplated him a moment. Her instincts told her he wouldn’t respond to her coddling him, but he would respond to logical and rational reasoning.
Succeeding in a male-dominated profession had taught her to draw her male counterparts out with challenging questions delivered unemotionally. The men in her world wouldn’t tolerate an emotional female. She schooled her features into impassivity and said, “But it was an accident, right? How can you be at fault?”
“We’d argued.”
For Josh’s marriage to be suddenly cut short in the midst of an argument was undoubtedly a hard blow.
“I should’ve stopped her. I shouldn’t have let her get in the car. I should’ve never kept…” His voice trailed off and he suddenly looked angry.
“That’s a l
ot of should haves,” Rachel stated quietly. “Did you somehow become omnipotent? Do you believe you could have stopped something out of your control?”
His scathing look was razor sharp. “It wasn’t out of my control.”
“How could you control an accident?”
“It wasn’t just an accident, Rachel. It was so much worse.” He turned back toward the window and fisted his hands. “So much worse.”
Frustrated with him and aching for him all at the same time, she touched his arm. “Tell me what happened.”
“That night I was working late, a double shift. Something I’d been doing a lot then. The nanny called. Said Andrea had locked herself in the bedroom and she could hear things crashing.”
He shook his head as if trying to deny what he was remembering. “I had to break down the bedroom door. She had torn the place apart. I was…shocked. She threw shoes at me and punched me. I grabbed her and shook her, demanding to know why she was behaving like a lunatic.”
He closed his eyes, and she could only guess at the images in his mind. “She’d been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks stained with her tears. She jerked out of my grasp, screaming at me.”
“Oh, Josh,” Rachel whispered, her chest tightening with anguish for him. “Why was she so angry?”
The misery etching lines in his face made her want to hold him. “She’d found a picture I’d hidden away.”
“A picture?”
With extreme effort she refrained from flinching at the guilt and self-loathing emanating from his eyes.
“The picture of us by our tree,” he said, his voice painful to listen to, the tone ravaged and scarred.
Then the meaning in his words hit Rachel full force and the breath left her body in a rush. He’d saved something of their past together. She knew which picture he meant. The picture of us by our tree. The tree where they’d found Griff. The tree Josh had carved their initials in, surrounded by a heart.
The week before she’d left for college, they’d driven up to the lake wanting to spend as much time together as possible. Those last few weeks were tense because Josh had been hurt by her refusal of his marriage proposal. That day had been no different.
The entire drive to the lake, they’d fought about her need to become a doctor. He wouldn’t compromise. She’d tried to tell him of her mother’s death and the effect it had had on her, but he hadn’t wanted to hear.
Finally, in desperation, she’d asked if they could spend a few hours together without thinking about anything but the here and now. And they had. For a few short hours no one else existed. Only their love mattered.
They’d propped the camera on a rock and used the timer to record the moment. But as dusk came, so had reality. They’d driven home in silence, the tension returning. One week later she’d left.
Josh had hidden away that picture. She didn’t understand, couldn’t begin to make sense of this.
And Andrea… Rachel imagined the pain Andrea had felt, the jealousy she’d experienced when she found her husband had saved a memento of his ex-girlfriend. A sick feeling moved through her. “She drove off in a rage?”
He nodded. The deep grooves around his eyes showed the strain of loss.
“You can’t take responsibility for that.”
“It was my fault,” he insisted.
Hurting for him and Griff, she tried to make him see reason. “She was a grown woman. She made the choice to drive while upset. That’s not your fault.” Rachel could see the disbelief in the depths of his hazel eyes.
“You don’t understand, Rachel. She wrapped her car around that tree on purpose.” He shuddered as if haunted by the memory. “I saw the finality in her eyes as she tore out of the driveway.”
Her mind recoiled from accepting that thought. “You don’t know that as fact. Why didn’t you tell her the picture didn’t mean anything?”
He closed his eyes. His mouth tightened into a grim line as if somehow he could stop the words from coming. She’d pushed him this far; she wasn’t going to let him back away from letting out whatever was destroying him inside.
Even as her hand reached for him, she acknowledged that in touching him, she felt connected to him in a way she’d never felt with anyone else.
She rubbed his arm until his hand captured hers. Fascinated, she watched as he brought her palm to his lips. He kissed the tender flesh, then slid his lips to her fingertips before replacing her hand in her lap. She shivered with the impact of those gentle kisses.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she stated, her voice shaky.
When he looked at her, the tenderness swirling in the hazel depths of his eyes sent her heart racing. When he spoke, his words made her breathing screech to a halt.
“Because it would’ve been a lie.”
Josh waited for Rachel to say something, anything. Instead, he watched the coldness come over her, seeping into her glacier-blue gaze. The doctor was back.
“Well, I can certainly understand how that would’ve made your wife more unhappy,” she said dryly.
He blinked.
A little crease appeared between her dark brows. “That still doesn’t give you the right to own all the guilt for Andrea’s death.”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m guilty. She wouldn’t have been in the car if she hadn’t found that picture I’d kept and she wouldn’t have driven away if I’d stopped her. If I’d been a better husband, none of this would have happened. If I’d loved her enough. Been enough…” The words broke from him in an anguished rush.
She shook her head. “Wow, I thought doctors were the only ones susceptible to God complexes.”
He rubbed his face wearily. “When did you develop such a biting wit?”
“Josh, listen to me.” Her authoritative tone demanded attention. “I have no doubt you were a good husband. But you’re right, Josh, you weren’t enough.”
Shocked, the air left his body as if he’d been pushed off a cliff and was free-falling without a parachute.
Josh looked into her eyes, expecting to see condemnation but instead saw cool compassion.
“Only God’s enough. And you aren’t God. He gives each of us free will. Andrea could have chosen to handle the situation differently. Unfortunately, you have to live with the results of her choice.” Her gaze shifted away. “We all have to live with the results of others’ choices and…our own. Some good, some bad. Some necessary, others optional.”
The wisdom in her words touched him deeply. Did she regret the choices she’d made? “You’re an amazing woman, Rachel Maguire.”
She raised a brow at him, a joking glint in her blue eyes. “You’re just now figuring that out?”
“I’ve always known. I’m just starting to appreciate it more.” And it was true. He did appreciate her strength, her compassion and her wit.
A faint tinge of pink brightened her cheeks but the look in her eyes turned impossibly colder before she quickly checked her watch. “It’s, uh, late. Or early, depending on your frame of reference. You—you should check on Griff. Yes, that’s what you should do.” She stood, her spine rigid and straight.
Was she flustered? She rambled as if she was, but her body language said otherwise. He’d like to be able to figure her out. But he would never get the chance.
Slowly he stood. “And you have a plane to catch.”
A hollow feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He hated the thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again, but he knew it was for the best. His heart couldn’t take much more damage.
“Oh, yes. I do have to take care of my flight.” She walked out of the chapel and to the elevators.
Josh followed. His heart twisted in his chest at her cold and unemotional acknowledgment of her departure.
Once they were inside the elevator, she pushed the button for Griff’s floor and then the lobby.
Josh frowned. “You’re not coming to see Griff?”
She didn’t look at him. “I need to use the pho
ne. Dr. Hunford, the E.R. attending, said I could use the doctor’s lounge in the E.R.”
“You could use the phone in Griff’s room.”
She glanced at him. “I don’t want to disturb him.”
“Griff will be upset if he doesn’t get to see you before you leave.” Just thinking about having to tell his son she’d left for good made his stomach churn.
She turned her crystal gaze on him and cocked her head speculatively. “What about your request that I stay away from him?”
Josh ran a hand through his hair. “I overreacted. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Her expression softened slightly. “But I understand.”
He touched her cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin beneath his callused hand. “Do you?” he asked quietly, wondering if she really understood she had the power to destroy all of their hearts.
She swallowed. His eyes were drawn to the slender column of her neck, to the visible pulse point in her creamy skin. He leaned toward her with every intention of kissing her.
Then the elevator doors opened.
Rachel stepped back, her eyes wide and cool.
Reining in his attraction, he asked, “We’ll see you later?”
She nodded and the elevator doors slid shut, leaving Josh to deal with the sad ache gripping his heart. Resignation lay heavy on his shoulders. She’d leave and he’s miss her.
Again.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as the doors closed and she was alone in the elevator, Rachel slumped against the cool surface of the wall. Josh had almost kissed her. And she’d have let him. She wanted him to, actually.
Josh and his son had demolished the barricade she’d placed around her heart. She felt beat-up and bruised. But recuperation would have to wait until she returned to Chicago. Which meant if she were truly committed to staying a few more days, she’d have to shore up her defenses and guard her heart and her emotions like a fortress.
But not tonight. She ached too much to do anything. Everything Josh had revealed left her reeling.
Andrea’s tragic death made Rachel’s insides quiver with sadness and guilt.
Sadness for what Josh had lost—his wife, his complete family and his dream. Sadness for Griff who lost his mother before he ever got a chance to know her.
